


The Fourth Wall

by notenuffcaffeine



Series: The Fourth Wall [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Crack, Fourth Wall, Gen, Here thar be swear-words, M/M, Researcher Stiles, The internet is for... Google!, Well that escalated quickly, poor unsuspecting derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 06:27:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1041443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notenuffcaffeine/pseuds/notenuffcaffeine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles Googles everyone, just to be on the safe side.  Which means eventually he'd find out Derek has a fandom, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fourth Wall

**Author's Note:**

> I was bored on my lunch break and had 45 minutes to kill. This is what happened. ...Maybe I should cut back on the coffee? 
> 
> (...On the other hand, it's kind of nice to know I can write something that's not a gazillion pages long.)

 

\------

The door was closed.   It formed a completed wall, solid, strong, and closed to intruders.  It wasn't locked at the moment, granted, but most normal people took a closed door to mean "knock first," if not "Do Not Enter."  Except for one Stiles Stilinski, who just slammed the doors open and then closed without so much as a _hello_.  Derek stared at him, eyebrows doing that thing they were supposedly famous for.  Stiles found him and stopped in the middle of the room.

"What?" he asked, clueless.  Derek shook his head.

"And they say _I_ was raised by wolves."

"Yeah, cuz you kinda were," returned Stiles.  He resumed his course to where Derek sat on the couch.  He sat down, again uninvited, and started digging into his ever-present backpack.  "And pot to kettle here, but why is it I had to put a _welcome mat_ under my bedroom _window_?"

"Because your dad doesn't like me thanks to all the times you had him _arrest_ me?" asked Derek, thinking that was a perfectly valid reason for not using the front door of the Stilinski home.

"Whatever."  Stiles propped his laptop up in his lap and hunched over the screen protectively.  He shot a look around the loft and then over at Derek.  "Where's Peter?"

"Not here?"

"Cora?"

"Also not here." Derek's paranoia levels were rising and he narrowed his eyes at Stiles.  "Why the roll-call?"

Stiles scoffed and pulled a face, as though the answer were obvious and Derek was dense.  "Because I have to show you a thing."

Derek had to admit he was curious but he was equal-parts worried.  Stiles was usually devious, but he wasn't usually secretive about it.  The kid's _face_ showed everything that crossed his mind at any given second.  And right now, that face was somewhere between stupefied, embarrassed, gloating and _predatory_.   Derek had no idea how that was possible, but it was Stiles' face so not actually something he had to devote time puzzling over.

"Fine," he said.  "What?"

"So I googled you."

"You what?"

"Google? It's a thing? On the Internet? Where you look for things?"

Derek narrowed his eyes, not impressed with Stiles' stilted efforts at human communication.  "Why are you googling _me_?"

Stiles shrugged.  "I google all of us.  Someone has to.  There's too much weird shit that happens and if any of it ever happens around cameras or something, you are _so_ screwed."

That was, to Derek's surprise, an actually valid and perfectly acceptable reason for the teen to turn stalker.  He accepted it with a nod.  "Alright.  So I'm guessing this means you found something."

Stiles nodded, eyes wide.  "Ohhh yeah.  I found the freakin' _Library of Alexandria_ on Derek Hale."

Derek choked.  "What?"

" _No_.  Freaking out _not_ allowed," said Stiles firmly.  He clutched his laptop protectively to his chest.  "You freak out, you'll just have to start googling you on Peter's laptop.  And I really, really don't recommend that.  Really."

"Is it there?" Derek pointed at the laptop, annoyed.

Stiles nodded.  He hesitantly handed the precious technology that was his entire life over to Derek.  "Just keep in mind, this isn't the weirdest thing that's ever happened to us, right?  It's up there on the _list_ , but it's okay..."

Derek raised an eyebrow at him and scoffed before turning his attention to the screen.  Stiles had, like, twenty tabs open in the browser, and another two windows open that probably had just as many tabs in them.

"Holy shit."

"Yeah," said Stiles, face scrunched.  "I maxed out at sixty pages, but there's so much out there, man."

"What is it?  How is this even possible?" Derek asked.  He was a firm believer in shortcuts and sixty different web pages was a full day's work; he would much rather skip to the punch line.  Stiles pointed at the screen.

"Nuh uh.  You gotta see this.  You won't freakin' believe me if you don't, dude."

Derek scowled at the screen, his eyebrows still lifted from sheer surprise.  He felt Stiles stare at him for a minute as he tried to make sense of the first google search page.

"What the hell is _fanfiction_?" He asked.  Stiles jumped up off the couch like he had been kicked and scooted to the kitchenette.  Derek stared after him suspiciously.  Stiles dug into the fridge like he owned the place and his _underaged_ self _stole a beer_.

"Damnit, Stiles..." began Derek.  Stiles shook his head.  He held up a hand, three fingers raised.

"There's stuff on fanfiction up in the third tab.  Shit man, just _jump_ on the scary shit first."

Derek turned his now very focused attention on the computer screen and clicked over to the tab.

The man didn't speak again for an hour after that.  Stiles brought him a beer and kept amazingly silent the whole time.  Sometimes pacing, sometimes sitting, sometimes running up the stairs to be sure Peter and Cora really weren't home.  

"Okay, that's not even humanly possible.  These people are crazy," said Derek finally.  "Not even werewolves can do that."

He heard Stiles choke on his second beer and startled, surprised 1) that Stiles had come back from downstairs and 2) _shit, had he said that out loud?_  Derek looked back at him.

"You _swear_ you didn't write _any_ of this?"  he asked.  Stiles glared and jumped over the back of the couch.

"When the hell do I have time to write a few _million_ fics?" he asked, just as accusing.  "Maybe _Peter_ has the room on his calendar but nobody else does.  And there’s still the stuff in the other windows that you _haven't even_ looked at yet, have you."

Derek immediately clicked into one of the other windows.  Another twenty tabs open.  And a very, very flattering digital, full-color drawing of Derek from above, stretched out and doing push-ups.  He tilted his head, impressed and surprised.  

"That's my tattoo," he said.  Stiles raised an eyebrow at him.

"Really? _That's_ your take-away from that picture?" he asked.  Derek frowned and looked again.  He realized then that the digital image of him was not doing push-ups.  And there were extra limbs.  And -

"The fuck are _you_ doing there?!"

Stiles stared at him, jaw slack.  Then he shrugged.

"Actually, that was pretty accurate.  I got nuthin," said Stiles.  He was just about to take his computer back and save the poor thing but Derek clicked over to another window.  He stared intently at every piece of "fan art" that Stiles had bothered to leave open.  Stiles started to worry when he moved on to the fanvids in the last window.

Stiles cleared his throat.  "I found some really fascinating character analysis... They call it meta but whatever.  It was... Wow."

Derek looked over at him, one eyebrow raised.  "On us?"

"Well.  Me and you and us.  Like, capital U.  And.  Yeah. Uh..." Stiles blushed.  Derek's brow furrowed impossibly higher.  "And everybody else too!" Stiles added quickly.  "It's like some weird _Twilight Zone_ episode on the Internet, man."

"Stalkers with cameras," said Derek. "How the hell'd they all know about Jennifer?"

Stiles' jaw dropped.  "Wait -You _really_ did that with Blake?! While we're all being _killed_ , you're in here gettin' it on?"

Derek glared at him.  "Don't start."

"Fine.  But.  Dude.  If that's _actually_ happened..."  Stiles let his voice trail off as Derek shoved the laptop away, annoyed.  He growled at it.  Stiles grinned.  "Really?"

Derek glanced over at him.  "What really?"

Stiles waggled his eyebrows and smiled broadly.  "You think I'm hot?"

"I think this is somehow _your_ fault," deflected Derek.  Stiles grinned impossibly huge.   Derek stood up and decided to go get himself another beer.  Stiles smirked up at him from the couch.

"Ya know, if those were legit, this is the part where you'd pin me to the couch and have your wolfy way with me," he said, equal parts amusement and invitation.

"Shut up, Stiles."  There was just enough heat to it that Stiles jumped up to give the brooding werewolf his space.  Except he wasn't paying attention and ended up in Derek's space when the wolf moved to step around him at the same moment.  They stood and stared at each other in front of the couch, almost eye to eye.  

And then Derek caved to the grin and the hopeful puppy eyes and caught Stiles' waist, which, like a domino falls, sent Stiles' hands for his face.  Stiles kissed him _first_ and that would be Derek's excuse until the day he died.

Then the door of the loft opened, because _nobody_ knew what manners were or _how to knock_.  And there they stood.  Derek _panicked_ first.

"And _this_ is the part where _that_ happens," said Stiles.  The grin had faded but, to be fair, he looked a little dizzy.  

"How much of that stuff did you read?!" Derek whispered.  Stiles grinned.

"I got some ideas..." he said.

Derek looked from Stiles to the door and the smirking faces of Peter, Cora, Isaac, and Scott McCall.

" _Don't_ show them what you found," Derek said quietly.  Stiles nodded and dove for his laptop.

"Heh.  We brought food.  Should we come back later?" taunted Scott.  Stiles looked up quickly, almost slipped off the edge of his perch on the couch.

"Yes, actually!" he said.

Derek went after that second beer finally.  "Shut up, Shut up, shut up..."

 


End file.
